Winterskin: A Dark Fantasy (Kindred Souls Book 1)

by C. M. Estopare

  Another heart-sputtering screech ripped through the air of the chamber as something solid and heavy collapsed, the ground trembling.

  “Rosetta cannot fight her on her own. Here,” taking Kat's hand, Clara squeezed it before leaning forward to brush her lips against the girl's skin. “I'll help you trans—,”

  Kat viciously jerked her hand away. “I'm not well—I can't—,” did she have a choice? By now, Robin had to be long gone. Far gone.

  Beseech the Night Lady, the raven had told her. But how?

  Now was not the time to contemplate—the Fates had no mercy, throwing her destiny upon her so quickly. She felt her arms tremble as her blood ran cold—she was different now. Changed. Is this how it felt to be hetaera? To be an undead, blood sucking, monster?

  When would she begin to feel...changed?

  Bloodcurdling screeches snatched her from her reverie as Clara stole her hand and bit deep into the skin of her open palm. Summoning blood.

  Black blood.

  Clara locked eyes with Kat, those cat-like eyes turning to dark pools of nothing as her skin changed. Black veins rose upon skin as translucent as tissue, as Clara's fangs grew, the nails upon her fingers spiked out like long, white, needles.

  Clara changed before Kat's eyes, and Kat suddenly felt a brutal heat soar through her, the heat ramping up the speed of her heart as her teeth began to viciously rip through her gums. She felt the nails upon her hands grow terrifyingly fast as her heart threatened to slam its way through her rib cage.

  She felt her skin go cool and clammy as light suddenly stole her vision, the girl blinking profusely as bright light suddenly became a burden upon her newfound eyesight.

  “Good.” Clara whispered, her mouth parting with Kat's palm. “Extraordinary. You aren't as weak as I thought you'd be.”

  Kat stood, the warm vigor roaring through her veins sweet. Like pure adrenaline.

  Was she truly going to do it? Was she truly going to kill her own mother to complete some cycle?

  Did she even have a choice?

  Clara was striking in her new form—a haunting beauty fell around her like a gossamer gown of frost. She was monstrous, true. Monstrous enough to send a shiver creeping up Kat's spine as the woman brought herself to her full height.

  She had grown a couple inches. Standing at a mighty seven feet.

  “They're in the hall.” Clara said, turning on her heel. “Follow me.”

  ~~~

  Wide and spacious. A high dome ceiling of bronze. Shiny wooden floors littered with blackened blood. Rugs cut up, scarlet and blue threads mingling in ripped twine.

  Of course—of course her mother would be here.

  Clara backstepped as Kat stood her ground. Lowering her gaze, she came eye to eye with Vidonia who heaved upon the ground. The woman stuck between her human and primal hetaera form. Her gown ripped into shredded tatters upon the shoulders. Her skirts shreds.

  Upon the ground, she heaved. A blackened hole sucking at the air in her chest, the crater wheezing as she breathed.

  A familiar figure stood at an arm's distance away from Vidonia. A black staff in her hand.

  “Ledora?” Kat said, her face twisted with confusion. “I thought—but you said...”

  Ledora grinned, her eyes pools of deep black that made Kat shiver.

  Before Ledora's grin capsized, sinking into a deep frown that stunk of malice. “They've Changed you.”

  Kat turned her gaze sidelong, meeting Clara with a questioning glare.

  Upon the ground, Vidonia let out a string of deep chuckles.

  Until Ledora silenced her with a slam of her staff, black tentacles wreathing from the ground in a swirling line before her until the black appendages shot through Vidonia's chest and strung her up. Holding her body up like a prisoner of war on a pike.

  “Is this what you meant?!” Ledora screamed at Vidonia who wheezed upon the makeshift pike, her hands holding the piercing tentacle as if she could wretch it from herself. “You stole my daughter's soul by...”

  “By turning her into one of us.” Clara finished, taking a step forward.

  “You—!You—!”

  Was Kat truly going to do this?

  Vidonia still chuckled, her voice weakening as she hung there.

  Was Kat truly going to kill her own mother?

  Was that even her mother?

  Kat tilted her head as Ledora's gaze locked with her own. “Are you even my daughter anymore?”

  “Ledora?”

  “She's dual-souled. Or—at least, was.” Vidonia coughed out, her voice strained. The explanation forced. “Ledora took your mother's soul in to save Baate Noir, but your mother...sacrificed Ledora's soul...stole her body...”

  Kat's bottom lip dropped.

  Ledora opened her arms—no, her mother, opened her arms. “I needed to survive. If I perished, so would Baate Noir. So would the south.”

  The south as she knew it was already gone—already doomed. She clenched her jaw—was this even her mother?

  How could her mother do such a thing? Steal the body of her savior—how could she?

  Maybe she deserved to die. Maybe she...

  Maybe the world is not enough for her.

  Kat took a step forward. “To cleanse the Crux, I must kill you—mother,” she choked the final word out, the title hard to say while looking into the single eye of the Archmage. “and sacrifice your soul to the Crux to cleanse it.”

  “And how are you so sure my soul will fix the Crux?” her mother answered, her words prefabricated.

  “I'm not.” Kat answered matter-of-factly. “But it's worth a try.”

  At that, her mother outright laughed.

  “If I kill you, there will be no gain for me. Yet, perhaps the Crux would accept your body instead of your soul?” her mother said, tightening her grip upon the black staff between her hands as the air grew colder. White steam left the woman's mouth as she grinned and narrowed her eyes, her stance one of complete confidence. “It's worth a try.”

  SIXTY-SIX

  Her mother was swift, keen, and unforgiving as she threw a wall of wreathing black towards Kat and Clara. Rendering the two blind for a matter of seconds.

  Kat cried out as the hard butt of a staff slammed into her right knee, joints popping—breaking, as Kat wrenched her leg away and flung herself to standing. Amidst the darkness, she threw her talons this way and that—hoping to blindly catch her mother before the deranged woman caught her.

  She missed. Two times. She missed.

  And saw stars as a staff connected with her neck, the woman swinging with precision. Aiming to deter Kat, not to kill her—or so Kat thought.

  Once again, she was on the ground—breathing, finally able to see.

  Clara flung herself at Seraphina in an instant, wrestling with the woman. Her hands holding tight to the black staff in her mother's single hand. Clara bore down on the woman, grunting and snorting as she attempted to throw her entire weight against the smaller woman.

  But a blast of wreathing black sent her careening towards the far wall, a mountain of dark wind smacked her—hard—against the wood of the wall. The brute force creating a crater that bent the wood inwards, before Clara slid to the ground. Unconscious.

  Kat tensed as she listened to her nails click against the polished wood floor.

  Her mother strolled, staff in hand, a growing smile on her face.

  Kat was frozen—frozen in terror.

  Vidonia was already incapacitated—struck up on a line like a fish. And Clara—she was knocked out.

  Kat couldn't do this alone.

  Her neck ached. Her right knee throbbed angrily.

  She couldn't do this alone.

  If only she'd had that damned jewel—this could have all been over. Her mother's soul could have been cleansed—but now, she had no choice. None at all. She had to kill her.

  Kat clenched her jaw as she crouched—mind blank. Heart throwing itself against her rib cage.

  What could she
do now?

  Her mother approached, coming to a halt about an arm's distance away.

  Kat crouched deeper, ready to spring into a sprint.

  “I don't want to kill you.” Kat said, coming out of her crouch. “You're my mother...even if you're in a foreign body. There must be another way...”

  Pressing her staff into the wood at her feet, her mother made no move to speak as her smile died. The grin replaced by a solemn frown and a terse twinkling of the eye before she brought her staff up and slammed it upon the ground. Ramming it into the floorboards three times.

  A circle of inky tentacles rose around the two women, the ring a breathing jail as it encircled them.

  Beseech the Night Lady, the raven had told her.

  Kat clenched her jaw.

  Beseech the Night Lady.

  Kat threw back her head at a sudden rippling of red hot pain as the knife like point of a tentacle wreathing at her back sliced through the skin at the back of her neck. Falling to her knees, she felt warmth trickle down from the incision, felt her life-force ebbing away.

  She looked up to see Ledora's face callously staring down on her as other tentacles in the ring rose before snapping at her—whipping her with so many knife points. Drawing blood. Stealing skin. Her entire body cried out—blood oozing from a myriad of cuts as the stabbing sensations ricocheting up and down her body slowly became large gashes. Clenching her fists beneath her, she listened as her mother approached. Staff still in hand.

  “If only that were so.” the woman replied, her voice husky. “If only the Fates had given us a choice in how our lives would end.”

  Seraphina stood above Kat as the tentacles ate away at her. Kat clenched her jaw and swung at the woman's ankles with the claws of her right hand.

  Somehow—they caught—and threw the woman off balance.

  The tentacles receded.

  As Kat swiped the woman's staff from her hands. She gasped as the black staff melted to an inky blackness, the staff becoming a black puddle at her feet.

  The circle of tentacles died away, a black ring staining the floorboards in their place.

  Seraphina was not done yet.

  Springing up from her back, she threw herself on Kat. Elbow lodged against the girl's windpipe as Kat's head knocked hard against the floorboards at her back.

  From her tattered skirts, Seraphina produced a knife.

  “You still have a body to give—and I still have a soul. I could take you—as I should have all those weeks ago. Your body could become mine.”

  The woman held her down with one arm, all of her weight pressing into Kat as she drove her knee into the girl's stomach.

  Kat felt her eyes roll up into the top of her head before she forced herself to focus.

  She couldn't give up—not now. Not yet.

  “And?” Kat snapped, focusing hard as she narrowed her eyes. “What would that solve? How would you commune with the Crux?” Cutting her gaze from her mother's, Kat spat upon the floorboards. Salty blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. “You could take the soul of every man, woman, and child and sacrifice them all to the Crux—but what then? Who would you have to rule if everyone was dead?”

  Seraphina faltered. Swallowed and brushed the edge of her knife against Kat's throat. “It is my curse.” she finally said, her single eye unblinking. “I have no choice in this. This is who I am cursed to be. I want and I want...” her eyes became bleak. Dead, “...but, just like the Crux, I can never be satisfied...”

  And in that moment, Kat felt unending pity for the woman—the woman who stole the body of a friend so that she might live on. The woman for whom the world was not—and would never be—enough.

  Perhaps it was her time? Her time to pass on to the underworld?

  Was it Kat's duty to send her on? If Seraphina were truly cursed to be what she was—a power hungry sorceress detained to the black forest—wasn't it Kat's duty to break such a curse? And, instead of sacrificing her soul to the Crux, wasn't it her duty—as this woman's daughter and kin—to send her soul to the place it belonged? The afterlife—the underworld?

  Kat understood. Finally—she understood.

  Her mother no longer belonged in these plains.

  The knife brushed against Kat's skin haphazardly, drawing blood, before Kat wrenched her neck away and jerked her upper body up with all of her might. Grunting with effort—every scratch and incision made by the ring of black burning upon her skin. The digging sensation left by the tentacles burning all the hotter the harder she tried to move—tried to throw her mother off of her and save her own skin.

  With a thump, the woman fell backwards. Knife clattering to the floorboards. Sliding.

  Both women raced to snatch it up—Seraphina's single arm reaching feverishly before Kat swatted her away with a needle-like talon to the face, narrowly missing her eye. Falling to her elbow, Kat snatched the blade up and turned.

  Only to see nothing and no one—the hall empty except for Clara and Vidonia's incapacitated forms.

  Where had Seraphina gone?

  As if listening to Kat's thoughts, the woman appeared behind her. Wrapped her arm around Kat's throat and attempted to choke her within the crook of her bent arm. Kat felt her blood run cold—her head filled with air as her vision slowly blurred.

  “I have no choice.” Seraphina giggled before moaning—before hot wet tears scattered from her face, burning into the cuts upon Kat's neck. “I am cursed—I am cursed—,”

  Kat clutched the knife in her hand, but felt it slip. Felt her breath die as the world turned upside down and slammed into the back of her head. Creating stars. Creating a rush of cold air that chilled her and brought her back as her mother strengthened the hold upon her neck.

  She caught hold of tears. Kat caught hold of missed years and sorrow. She caught hold of an apology.

  Before Kat let the knife's hilt slip in her palm, turned the blade towards herself, and jabbed it into her own abdomen.

  SIXTY-SEVEN

  Kat forced the knife through herself, feeling the blade twist and separate her organs as she bit down on her tongue. Drawing blood.

  Her mother still held her from behind—choking her. Stealing her breath.

  Kat grunted as she lodged the knife deeper, the hilt disappearing inside of her as the blade jutted out through her back. Breaking muscle, breaking skin.

  Seraphina's wiry muscles pressed farther into Kat's throat—making her gag.

  The knife slid through her organs, the blade kissing her mother's skin. Sliding farther to break skin. To squelch through muscle.

  Her mother hadn't noticed. Tears flooded her eyes as she refused to let go of Kat's neck.

  Kat fought the choke hold. Blood exploded from her tongue, coating the inside of her mouth.

  As the knife went farther, charging deeper. Deeper and deeper—exiting Kat through her back completely as it entered her mother's abdomen. Ripping through skin and muscle. Tissue and flesh. Warm slime bit through Kat's clothing as her mother began to bleed profusely. Ledora's body tensing as it froze. As it went into shock.

  The knife kept going. Kept charging forward.

  Kat ignored the pain as her mother's arm dropped. Turning on her heel, she snatched the knife protruding from her mother's side and lodged it deep within her heart—cutting through bone and muscle. She locked eyes with Seraphina for a moment as she lodged the knife in deeper, the moment of intimacy stolen as Clara swiped her talons across the woman's face. Stealing an eye.

  “Do it.” Clara hissed as the woman hit the ground, her hands around the knife protruding from her chest. “Take her soul.” Clara commanded, hovering over Seraphina. “Cleanse the Crux—complete the cycle!”

  Kat felt her energy leaving her. Her body felt ragged and drained as blood poured from the incision in her side.

  She met Clara's inhuman glare with a cold gaze. “You do it.”

  “Only you can—,”

  Kat cut her off with a stare and a scowl. Holding her side,
blood dribbled between her fingers as she crouched against the pain. Wanting to fall to her mother's side and die as well, yet knowing she could not.

  She was a monster now. A hetaera. This—this would not kill her.

  Unfortunately.

  But knowing that she murdered her own mother...

  “I will not do it.”

  Clara's eyes went wild. “If her soul fails to go to the Crux—,”

  “I will not do it.” Kat repeated, her voice dead. Broken. “Her soul will go to the underworld.” she told her. “Where it belongs.”

  “Traitor.” Clara hissed, clenching her fists. “You will be a realm traitor! You will never be welcomed here—or anywhere else—again! I curse you to walk this world as a homeless monster for the rest of your days! No one—not one soul will offer you hospitality, nor love. You will never know happiness again!”

  Kat bowed her head and approached Clara. “So be it.” she murmured, limping away.

  SIXTY-EIGHT

  So be it.

  Vidonia woke with a gasp, her body prostrate upon a long block of hard wood.

  Planting her palms into the block, she caught her breath. Coughed. Choked.

  Whipping her head to the right, she locked eyes with Clara. Her sister looked disheveled, her silky locks tangled and matted. Her gown in bloodied tatters, parts of the cloth permanently stained black.

  “Has she done it?” Vidonia sputtered out, hand upon her heaving chest as she attempted to pulse Power towards the Crux. As she attempted to commune with it.

  All she felt was cold—an unnatural chill that reared back at her like a chilly tide coming in. The cold attempting to eat away at her—tendrils of ice attempting to steal her very life-force.

  She clenched her fists, sharp nails digging into the sweaty palms of her hands.

  Clara shook her head, her eyes heavy with black bags that pulled her cat-like eyes down. Her face ten times older, assailed with wrinkles and dark blue bruising.

  Vidonia snarled. Her sister did not need to speak—did not need to tell her. She knew. From being unable to commune with the Crux—from being unable to fuel her Power—she knew. She knew the girl had betrayed them.